


Plaything

by Quillaninc, randi2204



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Intimidation, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lotor captures him, Lance isn't left to rot in the dungeons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plaything

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** WEP owns Voltron. We're just having all kinds of fun.

Lance came to slowly, cautiously.  His last memory had been of Lotor's face hovering over him, twisted by an evil grin.  He still felt groggy, and wondered if he had been drugged.  There was a strain on his arms, and when he twitched, he found that they were bound with manacles and chained to the wall.  
  
_Oh, great,_ he thought, groaning.  _How on earth do I get myself into situations like this?_

His internal castigation was cut by the sound of booted feet sauntering down the hallway towards his narrow cell.  
  
"Well, well... Sleepy Beauty has awoken," a familiar voice drawled nastily.  "It's about time."

Lance blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from his eyes.  But no, even when he'd done so, it was still Lotor's figure before him.  "So, that would make you the evil fairy, wouldn't it?"   
  
He sniggered briefly at his own wit, until strong fingers snared his face in a vice-like grip.  "Oh, that washn't funny, wash it?" he managed around the pain in his jaw.

The smirk he received was more unnerving than any flare of anger.  Suddenly, he felt that the joke was about to be turned on him.  
  
Leaning closer, a hair's breadth from Lance's face, Lotor's smirk grew into a fully-fledged leer.  "Oh, it's funnier than you could imagine," the Prince murmured silkily.  
  
Lance's terror leapt up a notch, and the pit of his stomach plummeted.

It didn't subside at all when Lotor released him and turned away, but stayed at panic level, though it was joined by confusion.  He wiggled his jaw, just to make sure that Lotor hadn't broken anything.  There was an instant's sharp pain, fading to a dull ache.  "So what's the deal, Your Evilness?  Gonna torture me until I tell you what a bastard you are?"  His bravado slipped slightly, his voice quivering ever so minutely when he spoke of torture.  "Well, I gotta news flash for ya—I'll tell ya straight out."

Lotor's deep chuckle echoed in the room, a roguish glint in his eye as he grinned evilly at Lance over one shoulder.  "I'm sure you would, _flyboy_... but there's easier, _far_ more interesting ways to get what I want from you."

Imperiously, he waved a dismissive hand in Lance's direction and commanded the guards to have his prisoner unshackled, but not unbound.

Confused by the order, Lance glared at Lotor's broad back as he was roughly removed from the wall restraints.

Manhandled into having his arms bound tightly behind his back by the two Doomite guards, Lance struggled briefly.  "Oooh, you're a big man, ain'tcha?" he taunted.  "Gotta have TWO guards to handle one li'l Earthling pilot!" He snorted.  "I'm not sure why anyone was ever afraid of you…"  
  
He meant himself, but he was damned if he was going to let Lotor know _that_.

That deep chuckle reverberated through him again.  "Precautions, my dear boy... precautions," Lotor tilted his head enough to catch Lance out the corner of his eye and countered smoothly.  "One shouldn't let one's playthings run loose in a place like Doom.  One never knows what... or _who_ might happen to them."

His grin acquired a feral note to it, eyes dancing with wicked intention.    He couldn't resist adding cryptically, "You should be a little more careful with what you say, you know... you never know how accurate you might be."  
  
Then suddenly, he whirled around, long pale hair flying to settle heavily behind him as he pinned Lance with a hungry, disturbing look.  "Take him to my chambers!" he commanded brusquely.  
  
Lance was left with the image of those reptilian yellow eyes glowing at him as the Prince departed as abruptly as he'd arrived.

He shivered way down deep in his soul.  There was just something about that… that _stare_ , the way those amber eyes just _burned_ through him, that frightened him greatly, even more, if that were possible, than the predicament that he'd already gotten himself into.  
  
He stumbled as the guards pushed him into motion.  "Come on," one said, sneering.  "You heard him.  Get moving, meat."  
  
Lance favored him with an impudent grin.  "Oh, I heard all right."  _Never let 'em see you sweat,_ he told himself.  _Or, failing that, never let 'em see you're scared out of your mind._   "I just don't know where his room is.  If you'd be so kind…" He tilted his head in the direction of the door.

Seeing that he wasn't going to move on his own, the two guards grabbed his arms and started dragging him toward the open portal.  Lance huffed.  "Well!  This is a fine way to treat a guest!"  After a moment, he got his feet under him and walked.  _Don't think about Lotor,_ he counseled himself.  _Think about the team.  Keith's gotta be looking for me by now.  Just don't think about what he's going to do to me…_  
  
_Oh, damn, you thought about it…_

Eventually, however, his fear started to take second place to amazement.  _This place is friggin' huge!_ he thought, staring up at the grand halls, the ceilings vaulted so far over his head that the lights at eye level couldn't illuminate them.  And nearly every inch was crammed with exquisite artwork or statuary, thrown every which way without thought for balance or appreciation.  _The wealth of nearly the entire galaxy… tossed here willy_ _-_ _nilly,_ he thought, brain reeling _.  If I had a fraction of this, I could retire from Galaxy Garrison and never have to work again…_  
  
The guards led him up passages and down, for what seemed like miles, until finally they halted before a pair of grand golden doors at the end of a corridor.  They opened slowly and the guards hustled him in.

His eyes widened.  If the rest of Castle Doom was chock-full of treasures, Lotor's room—assuming that's where he was now—was the ultimate treasure hoard, but TASTEFUL.  
  
_For some reason,_ Lance thought dizzily, _I expected he'd have a Spartan little chamber… Silly me…_

The room was decorated with rich hangings and small pieces of marble set in pools of light.  The bed was a massive structure of mahogany, shrouded by velvet curtains.  
  
Before he was able to drink in any more, his attention was yanked away, as one of the guards pushed him.  He staggered forward, right into the arms of a waiting slave.  "Here's the Prince's prisoner," the guard stated needlessly.  "I assume he's given you his orders…?"  
  
The slave bowed meekly.  "But you need to take off his bindings first," he replied, helping Lance regain his balance. "We can't bathe him otherwise…"  
  
"Whoa!" Lance burst out suddenly.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

But before he got his answer, he was shoved roughly— _this has GOT to stop,_ he thought darkly—toward another door.  "He's got plans for you," he heard one of the guards snicker, then the door closed behind him, and he was surrounded by seven well-built male slaves.

He grinned warily.  "I don't suppose you fellows will let me do this myself, will ya?"

His only response was to have them pile onto him and start to remove his tattered and filthy uniform.

Being bathed—and by such gorgeous specimens!—was a unique experience, but he found that the panic hovering just beneath the surface wouldn't let him enjoy it as he might have wished under other circumstances.

 _But at least I'm clean again,_ he thought with a sigh.

The trouble came when he was led out of the swimming pool that Lotor evidently used as a tub, and given a sheer length of cloth, similar to what those around him wore.  "What am I supposed t'do with this?" he muttered, staring at it.  Then it was taken from him and draped artfully around him.  Before he could adjust to the folds of fabric—and its other qualities!—he was brought back out into the main chamber.  Lotor was waiting there.

Again, he was struck by those reptilian eyes, this time raking over his barely clothed body with the hungry anticipation of a wine connoisseur at a vineyard.

"Much better," that husky voice purred.  "Quite the little delectable, under all that bluff, aren't you?"

Lance tried hard to control the tremor that wanted to run through him at those words.  Deprived of his uniform, tattered as it was, he felt… _vulnerable_ , in a way that he had never really known before.  Clothed as he barely was in this silky bit o' nothing, with no weapons to hand and not much chance of escape… he couldn't even come up with a snappy comeback.

That blasted, husky, low leveled chuckle again!  "What?  Nothing to say?  No sarcastic wit trying to sharpen itself on me?" Lotor taunted, sauntering a little closer.  "You disappoint me!"  
  
Another shudder skittered down his back as Lotor closed his distance.  Once again, Lance found himself face to face with this... _behemoth_ of a man smirking down at him.  
  
Then his jaw was grasped in that painful, crunching hold again.   
  
"We'll have to rectify that situation," the Doomite Prince whispered cruelly, the touch of his breath on Lance's lips a foreshadowing of what was to come.

Scrabbling to recover himself, Lance forced a smirk, though he wasn't sure how it looked with Lotor mushing his face like that.  "Well, you know, wit doesn't just work off nothing.  I need someone ELSE with a wit to start with, and since I don't see anyone who fits that description… " He shrugged negligently.  _I'm not going to panic,_ he thought desperately, _I'm not going to panic here!_

A tiny 'eep' escaped his lips as a broad hand slid over his hip and beneath the miniscule cloth to mould itself firmly to one tight buttock... then yanked him forward.  
  
"You didn't seem to be doing too bad earlier," Lotor remarked casually, slightly canting his head to the side to breathe those words along the sensitive skin beneath Lance's ear.

 _Don't do that, don't do that…_ But his eyes drifted to half-mast anyway, and another shiver—this one of something other than pure terror—sung along his spine.  He raised his hands to Lotor's shoulders, feeling the muscles bunching under his fingertips.  He mustered his strength from somewhere and pushed, but the Prince didn't move.  "Yeah, well," he panted, still pushing, still trying to ignore the little fluttering sensation that Lotor's exhalation had wrought.  "You just startled me, is all."

That seductive ghosting of air drifted down to his collarbone, then up the other side, tickling at his other ear.  "When?  Then... or now?"  
  
Lotor's hand held his hips firmly to the Prince's body, eliciting a subtle, massaging flex from time to time.

"Er… now.  Just…" Inwardly, he started cursing his body— _hello!_ he thought with as much derision as he could summon, _you're reacting to Lotor!_ —and the way that it was causing his brain to short out.  He couldn't even speak without stuttering!

His scattered attention was drawn by the sudden heat beneath his hands.  _He's awfully warm…_ He stopped pushing, and just let his hands rest there, motionless.

All other thought was driven from his being as, finally, his lips were taken in a searing, possessive kiss; neither brutal nor gentle, but something that was uniquely Lotor.

He sagged against the arm holding him, tension fleeing out of each muscle.  His eyes closed and his knees buckled slightly, so that he was almost perversely glad that Lotor was supporting him.  Of their own accord, his hands twined in Lotor's fine hair, keeping their mouths pressed as closely as their bodies.  
  
He made an inarticulate sound of protest when Lotor finally pulled away.  When he opened his eyes, he saw the Prince smiling smugly down at him.

Muscled chest heaving slightly, Lotor grinned. "Well, now... there's a start towards rectifying my disappointment," he quipped. No one, least of all Lance, could have predicted the Prince's next move. Scooped firmly into Lotor's arms, he suddenly found himself flailing mid-air as he was thrown with a forceful heave towards the bed some distance away, landing heavily.

Gasping for air from the impact, Lance tried to sit up, but a couple of hundred pounds of Doomite Prince on his chest deterred him. "Hey," he panted, "was that really necessary?" Then he realized with a start that his drape was in disarray, and tried to wiggle away to straighten it.

Large hands firmly grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, Lotor grinning down at him. "Necessary? No.  Fun?  Most definitely!"

Hot breath assailed the juncture of his neck as the Prince moved in to tenderly bite the delicate skin.  "Rather like you, really," Lotor purred. "Quite the surprise, you are."

"You're starting to repeat yourself," Lance managed, difficult as it was to try to speak when his senses were assaulted as they were.  "Surely that's a sign of… diminished… capacity?"  He was burning, burning up; the worst fever he'd ever had hadn't been this hot.

That fever increased ten-fold when Lotor transferred both of Lance's wrists to a one-handed grip.  That other hand wandered down, through the damp curls of Lance's hair, down, over his flushed cheek, down… He could barely contain the moan that demanded to be released.

The lips that drifted along the underside of his jaw, then roamed up to brush eyelids, temple, cheek were so soft, so gentle, they were completely at odds with his perception of their owner.  A soft sigh escaped, unable to be withheld.

The moan that had caught in his throat rumbled forth as the Prince carefully moved to straddle his hips, then slid down until their bodies were flush.  The subtle pressure of Lotor's groin pressed against his own brought another moan; this one the Prince absorbed with his lips, a deep kiss of great hunger and yet strangely tender.

He tried to free his hands again, not to try escaping, but just to _touch_ as he was being touched.  He yearned to feel the heat against his fingers, as it was now against his whole body.  Lotor's grip tightened fractionally, not quite enough to bruise, but to remind him that the potential was there in those huge hands.  
  
When Lotor shifted to retain the grip on his hands, he pressed Lance even more firmly into the mattress, his groin grinding just a bit harder against Lance's own.  He bucked up at that, though his whimper was lost in the Prince's mouth.

"You were saying something about diminished capacity?"  The deep voice was husky with desire, and trembled just a little with suppressed humour.

Lance blinked, the voice bringing him back a bit from wherever it had been that the… desire had taken him.  "Was I?" he gasped, as Lotor again nibbled at the sensitive flesh of his neck.  Those lips vibrating against his skin as Lotor chuckled was his only response.

Lips moved lower, caressing the hollow above his collarbone, tongue flicking along the ridge of bone, then making their way steadily down over firm muscle.  He arched his back, eliciting another sighing gasp as liquid heat traced the sculpted plain of his chest, then centred fully over one tightened nub.  
  
All of a sudden, he realised his hands were free.

But before he could decide what he really wanted to do with them—push Lotor away and try to escape, or run them through the Prince's hair—the hand that had been confining his own ran lightly down his flank, trailing fire in its wake.  He shivered as it then skipped up his chest, and at last pinched at the nipple to which Lotor had not yet devoted his mouth.  He groaned, and his hands suddenly found themselves tangled in long soft white strands.  _Guess that decided that,_ he thought hazily.  
  
The tongue tormenting him so deliciously made its wet way across his breastbone, and began to circle around the other perked nub, while the hands started to wander again… downward, ever downward.

"Gods, you're perfect," Lotor whispered against his moistened flesh, then returned his attention to that sensitised peak.  
  
Any response dissolved in Lance's brain as Lotor threaded one hand between their bodies and dipped into the scrap of fabric tangled around his hips, a seeking, stroking pleasure.

He could say nothing; his throat refused to make any word, only sounds of appreciation and delight.  But his hands pulled away from Lotor's head—taking a few strands with them, if the quiet growl he heard was any indication—and began to wrestle with the cloth that still covered the Prince's broad shoulders.  He wanted to touch _skin_ , wanted to feel _flesh_ beneath his fingers, and Lotor was far, far too overdressed.  Between the soft whines that Lotor wrung from him, he tried to force out an intelligible word.  "Off," he finally managed, with a particularly violent tug to clarify what he meant.

Lotor laughed, a sensual sound that caressed his ears as surely as the Prince's hands caressed his flesh.  "Your wish is my command," he chuckled, then sat upright, legs still settled astride Lance's waist.  
  
The Prince didn't bother with niceties; supple, strong fingers merely gripped the neck of his shirt and tore it in half with one sharp movement, arms and chest rippling with the moment that bared his entire torso.

Scraps of fabric fluttered down over Lance, who simply lay there, astonished.  _Well,_ he thought, and was surprised he still could think _, I guess that's one way to do it…_ He tried to sit up, but, still pinned at the hips as he was, it was a losing battle.  He settled for stretching up his arms and running his hands over the well-defined muscles of Lotor's chest, marveling at how smooth his skin felt.

His fingers slid down, and the way the muscles trembled at his touch felt so good. Then they brushed the huge buckle on the Prince’s belt.  “That’s got to go, too,” he said, and grinned up at Lotor.  “I’m sure I’ve already got it imprinted on my belly…”

A strangled groan mingled with Lotor's chuckle.  "Be my guest," he gasped.  His eyes slid to heavily lidded slits as he took in the delight of Lance sprawled out before him, pale skin lightly tanned and taut over honed muscles.  Lightly he traced the slight impression the buckle in question had indeed left low on Lance's midriff, and smiled wickedly as the flesh quivered beneath his touch.

Squirming mightily, Lance managed to get enough of himself from underneath Lotor's weight to pull himself upright.  "Bloody good thing I'm flexible," he muttered as he worked on the buckle.  "There!"  Immediately he pulled the wide belt away from the Prince's waist, and began to unbutton his pants.

His nimble fingers stalled as Lotor reached out to cup his face and draw him into another of those plundering kisses.  Mind, what little was working, was wrapped up in the delicious sensations the man was inducing... it was no wonder he couldn't withhold the small sound of protest when Lotor pulled back and scowled at him.  
  
"Did I say you could stop?" he was asked.  
  
Baffled, it took Lotor's significant look down at the hands tangled in his pants for him to realise what the Prince meant.

Somehow, he managed to recover himself enough to grin slyly up at Lotor.  "Hey, that was just bonus for you.  All you _said_ I could do was undo your belt… "  His smile widened as Lotor snarled low in his throat.  "But, since you asked so nicely… " He bent forward slightly, pretending to be totally absorbed in his task, but cast another laughing look up at Lotor from the corner of his eye.

Once the buttons were undone, he snuck one more glance up at the Prince, and found him staring down at him expectantly.  With an impish grin, he let his hand over the gaping opening of Lotor’s trousers, then brushed the tip of one finger lightly over the impressive length there exposed.  “Or is _this_ what you were hoping for?” he murmured, and was rewarded as a massive shudder wracked Lotor’s frame.

He gasped at the pain that sliced through his wrist as his hand was ripped away and slammed against a bedpost.  Eyes wide with trepidation, a shudder of his own trickled down his spine as Lotor loomed over him, face twisted in a distasteful snarl.  
  
"All right.  What do you want?!" the Prince demanded.

 _Oh, man, what the hell is going on here?_   Somehow, he kept his thought from coming out of his mouth, but it was a near thing.  "What do you mean, what do _I_ want?" he asked, and was disgusted at the way his voice quavered slightly.  "You're the one who captured _me_ , remember?"

"Precisely," Lotor snarled back.  "So what makes you so eager, all of a sudden?"

Lance’s mind ground to a halt.  Well, why _was_ he so ready to rip off Lotor’s clothes and have a go with him?  The fear—which had been nearly burned away by the fierce desire he’d felt—returned, paralyzing him, and he couldn’t think. 

Aware of Lotor still hovering over him, glowering almost angrily, he said the first thing that popped into his head.  “You… you kissed me.”

Lotor snorted his disbelief.  "And that's all it takes, hmm?  Do I look that dumb to you?!"  He looked away sharply, bitterness clear in every feature.  Then his eyes snapped back to Lance's, penetrating, glowing.  "I won't be taken for a fool!" he growled.  "I don't care what it is you plan to ask of me... but I won't be taken for a fool!!"

He wanted to protest, to shout that _of course_ that wasn’t all it took, to spout the joke that he always made with Keith, that he was cheap, but he wasn’t easy, and let the tension dissolve.  But Lotor was apparently much more unstable than he’d believed, if one little caress would make him so enraged.

And, quite abruptly, the sense of outrage that had been coursing through him since Lotor had sneeringly implied that he was anyone’s for the taking evaporated and was replaced by pity.  Apparently, no one had ever done anything for Lotor without asking for something in return.  _Huh.  Never thought of it like that before,_ he thought, surprised, looking into Lotor’s blazing eyes.  _I guess that would sour the most pleasant of dispositions… which his ain’t._

So he let all his muscles—straining almost unconsciously against Lotor’s hold—relax, and he closed his eyes.  “I’m not after anything from you, Lotor,” he said softly.

When Lotor didn't offer so much as a snarl in reply, he risked a peek through his lashes… and was surprised.  
  
The confusion his response had brought was written as clearly in Lotor's face as the bitterness had been.  The scowl had softened fractionally into a perplexed, wary frown as the Prince just watched him  
  
"So… why?"  
  
His surreptitious gaze had been noticed, if Lotor's gruff question was anything to go by.

He opened his eyes once more and lifted one shoulder in a kind of half-shrug.  “Well… I wasn’t lying when I said it was because you kissed me.  You did… things… that made me want you as a man, not for what I thought I could get from you.” He chuckled softly.  “And I guess I have to admit that Keith is right, and my passions do live pretty close to the surface, and are easily aroused.” Then he sobered again.  “But I was doing… what I was doing because I _wanted_ to do it, because I _wanted_ you.”

He decided that he didn’t— _really_ didn’t—want to get into the reasons that Lotor had been doing those delicious things to him.  He didn’t want to go back to thinking of the man he was in bed with as a vengeful lunatic.

A thumb traced over the underside of the wrist in Lotor's grasp, just as the Prince brushed the backs of the fingers of his free hand across Lance's cheek, so gently it was hard to believe this was the same man.  
  
Lotor's eyelids lowered partway, and Lance's heart thrummed in his chest at the warm look he received.   He could feel Lotor's breath drift across his lips as the other man leant in closer, all the while watching him.  His eyes drifted shut again, and he was taking shaky breaths, partly from fear, partly anticipation.  
  
Then Lotor whispered softly, "If you're lying to me, so help me…"

All right, so he _was_ a vengeful lunatic.

“Fine,” he muttered petulantly.  “Don’t believe me.”  He jerked his face away from Lotor’s, bashing the back of his head against the bedpost.

Wincing, with eyes smarting from the pain, he didn't really register that his wrist was suddenly free.  That was, until he was bodily lifted away from the damn vindictive post and laid carefully amongst the abundance of pillows on the bed.  
  
He heard Lotor's soft chuckle.  "Silly fool," the Prince murmured, an oddly affectionate sound, and traced the curve of his cheek again.

Involuntarily, Lance turned into the touch, some faint echo of the earlier arousal still lingering in his system.  He raised one hand, and traced the bulge of muscles in Lotor’s arm.  “And graceful with it, too,” he said, grinning weakly.

Lotor chuckled again, and the bed sank as he maneuvered his body to fit alongside Lance's.  A faint glimmer of laughter flickered in his eyes as he caught Lance's gaze, and Lance felt a rush of anticipation blend with something he couldn't name.  
  
A large calloused palm hovered momentarily across his ribs, before finally settling.  Lotor let it slide downwards in a firm gentle stroke, slowly seeking to learn the pathways of Lance's body, and the pilot shivered.

The heat rising from Lotor’s body was intense, growing with every passing second.  Lance felt perspiration begin to film his body, as that huge hand, wandering seemingly aimlessly over his flesh, wrung reaction after reaction from him.  A brush _there_ made his cheeks pinken; a touch _here_ , and his eyes fluttered shut with a soft sigh.

Finally, it occurred to his pleasure-drugged mind that, even though caressing on his own initiative had broken the mood before, Lotor might welcome some… well, _bodily affection_ in return. 

So, he raised a hand, grabbed a fistful of Lotor’s hair, and drew him down for a long, plundering kiss.

Lotor's stifled moan was music to Lance's ears; the Prince's instantaneous involvement in the deliberately slow, hungry meld of mouths wrung a similar reaction from Lance himself.  
  
When finally allowed to come up for air, all he could gasp was an amazed, "Wow!"  Then he whispered another soft groan as Lotor's lips worked a trail along the underside of his jaw, coming to suckle at the tender flesh just below his ear.  
  
"Tell me what you want…?" The murmured question tickled his sensitised skin, and immediately raised alarm bells.  Oh no!  Not this again!

Lotor read something in the abrupt tension that suddenly stiffened Lance's form in his arm, and he placed an apologetic kiss in the juncture between Lance's throat and shoulder.  "I mean, what would you like me to do," came the huskily murmured appeasement.

Hearing that, and the tone of voice in which the not-quite apology was offered, Lance forced his leaden muscles to move, and let his fingers drift down Lotor’s arm, across his chest, feeling the other’s flesh twitch and shiver in their wake.  “Oh,” he replied, gently teasing, “I could think of a few things… but why don’t you just do what comes naturally?”

And when Lotor dipped down again for another searing kiss, he arched up against that hard body, trying to show him without words _just_ what he wanted.

The breadth of the hand the slid beneath his back made him feel like a youth taking his first lover.   His sense of humour gave a little laugh at that, reminding him he wasn't so far from that age anyway.

Then all thought drifted away as that hand drew him closer to the battle toned body pressed against him, then slid downwards to boldly caress the taut muscles of his buttocks.  And, all the while, the Prince drank deeply from willing, eager lips.

Lance made a noise deep in his throat and raked his blunt fingernails down Lotor’s flank and back.  The flex of his hips pressed him even more firmly against Lotor, and there could be no further doubt about his desire for the Prince… nor of the Prince’s for him.

Lotor’s pants were still gaping open at the front, allowing him enough leeway to snake a hand down the back.  He would have preferred to take the frontal approach, just to see the way the massive frame above him would shudder, but that was kind of blocked by the way Lotor was holding them together.  He caressed the cheeks of the Prince’s backside, and smiled to himself when he felt them start to quiver.

Then he worked his hands around to the sleek hips, and began to push the trousers down a bit, trying to expose still more of the other’s body, where his fingers could roam.

The other man's husky chuckle sent desire skittering through his body, and a shaky laugh of his own broke loose as the Prince got the message and relaxed his hold.  For a moment caution gripped him, and his wandering hands stilled.  He couldn't easily forget how quickly and innocently he had triggered Lotor's temper last time… he had no desire to do so again.  
  
Lotor reached around and plucked one hand away from where it had paused at his hip.  Lance couldn't hold back the slight grin as it was gradually, unalterably drawn downwards over the tight, trembling muscles of Lotor's abdomen… then lower.

Then, quite suddenly, his fingers brushed the very tip of what had gotten him another glimpse of Lotor’s distrust and resentment.  This time, however, his hand was not snatched away and his wrist nearly broken.  No, _this_ time, he was encouraged to wrap his fingers about the length of the Prince’s manhood.  When he gave an experimental caress, just to see what would happen, Lotor groaned mightily.  The guiding hand fell away from his own, and started scrabbling at the hem of the drape he wore, now fearfully askew about Lance’s form.

Quickly, encouraged by this reaction, he sent his fingers down, down, to palm the full measure of the beast.  Finally, his fingers encircled the base, and he began to pump, squeezing softly, varying the pressure according to the moans and whimpers that he dragged from Lotor’s lips.

"Oh, gods!" Lotor eventually groaned.  "Enough… _enough_!"

When he didn’t stop immediately, Lotor pulled away, panting, and grabbed his hand tightly, though not quite the bone-crushing grip he’d used earlier.

Lance grinned up at him, unrepentant at having driven the Prince so close to the edge.  Heat and desire thrummed through his body, making him even less cautious than usual.  If he could have gotten away from Lotor’s grasp, he would have gone right back for some more.

But Lotor held him firmly, so Lance contented himself with trying to make contact between them other ways… like arcing his hips up …

With a cross between a chuckle and a growl, a heavy thigh was thrown over his legs, restricting his movements.  "Behave yourself," the Prince warned huskily.  That broad palm slid across his midriff again, raising little shudders all the way until it came to rest on his hip, pinning him down.  
  
Lotor grinned down at him, golden eyes dancing wickedly.  "I've got a few other things in mind just yet," he purred.  
  
Lance gasped as the silken feel of Lotor's hair caressed his skin, then groaned as one nipple was drawn firmly into hot, moist heat and caressed with gentle swipes of Lotor's roughened tongue.

The hair brushed against his chest as Lotor transferred his attention from one nubbin of flesh to the other.  The hands that seemed to cover so much of him with one swipe were now working at his hips, trying to remove the light drape that was now wound tightly about him.

He thrashed a bit, wanting more touch, more of those huge hands, especially in the place he felt they’d do the most good.  But they kept working at detangling the cloth from about him, teasing, stroking, but never touching the part of him that _ached_ for it.

“Lotor…” he whimpered, and tried to buck to get his attention.

"Shhh."  The soft whisper trickled over his skin, and he moaned.  Somehow, his fingers had entwined in Lotor's hair, rich and silky to the touch; his muscles clenched, pulling the other closer.  
  
He didn't feel the fabric fall away… only the firm, calloused feel of Lotor's hands sliding across the smooth skin of his hips, then beneath to cradle the quivering flesh of his buttocks, lifting him slightly.  
  
Anticipation thrummed as lustrous hair slid over his body, emphasizing the warm, damp breath that drifted across taut muscles as the Prince slid his mouth steadily lower.

Then something hot and moist was wrapped around his jutting member, and the sound that fell from his lips was part groan, part sigh, and all want and need.  Those hands now pressed his pelvis to the bed, keeping that part of him still, though he tossed his head back and forth on the pillows, and his hands clenched into the fabric of the sheets.

Then Lotor began to pull away, creating a delicious suction that was _so good_ that it drove him mad.  He gasped at the sensation as Lotor swallowed him again, his toes curling, body _wanting_ … just _wanting_ … more.

Panting and trying to force the words out past the block in his throat, he managed, “Lotor… _please_ …”

He couldn’t believe that that choked plea came from his throat.  He couldn’t recall ever wanting to beg for anything like he was begging now.  Of course, he could only just barely remember his name at this point.

He stared at Lotor, seeing him as if through a haze, and was stunned at his expression.  He looked… awed, somehow, as if this wasn’t what he’d expected at all, as if Lance were something more than just an unwilling bed made that he’d roused beyond all bearing.  No... it was something else.  Something more.  
  
Then, _God!_ His eyes rolled back as Lotor suckled his way up his hot flesh, mouth working slowly, as if to savour the taste and feel of every fold, every vein, every moan he so willingly gave.  The way he eagerly tongued the smooth, damp tip, over and over was so very close to driving him over the edge, and he couldn’t contain the guttural sound that rose in his throat. 

At that strangled cry, at the involuntary tensing of muscles, abruptly, Lotor pulled completely away.

“No!” At the sudden loss of the wet, willing warmth of Lotor’s mouth, Lance couldn’t stop his whine of protest.  He opened his eyes, unable to believe that the Prince would bring him _that close_ and then not let him finish.

But Lotor’s eyes were roving over him, drinking him in, and he glanced down to see what was so…

Oh.

His skin was flushed.  Sweat trickled down his chest, he could feel it on his face.  His legs sprawled to either side of Lotor’s bulk, spread without modesty.  His cock throbbed red and needy and curving up from the thatch of dark chestnut hair.

_Quite an erotic sight, if I do say so…_

But Lotor was doing nothing… just devouring him with his eyes.  Lance reached up, surprised at the way his fingers trembled, and caught his chin, bringing his gaze up to meet Lance’s own.

“Please…?”

A slow smile drifted across Lotor's face, lightening the hungry look in his eyes.  "Oh, yes," he purred, and Lance heard a husky catch in his voice.  "That I will do."

Lotor caught his hand—gently, this time, gently—as it brushed against his face, and Lance saw him stare at the red marks circling his wrist, even now darkening to black bruises.  _Something_ flickered across his mobile features, and he couldn’t help but think it might be regret, something that he would have sworn was completely foreign.

Then those big hands were on him again, one cupping his cheek in a way mimicked tenderness.  The kiss that Lotor gave him, that burned him, set his senses aflame, was anything but.  The prince’s tongue ravaged his mouth, sweeping it over and over, his lips demanding more, always more.

Lance responded just as eagerly, and Lotor took advantage of the distraction to shift him into a more accessible position.  
  
When Lance resurfaced from the mindless giddiness of that kiss, he found himself sprawled even more decadently across the counterpane.  Deep, luxurious cushions leant gentle support to his lower back, and Lotor was still kneeling between Lance's splayed thighs, kneading them.  
  
Then he realised, something cold and… solid… lay on his belly.  He blinked, then grinned.  
  
Lube, he saw.

But he said nothing, just raised his hips in silent—or nearly silent, for he was so utterly sensitised that even that small movement sent shocks of pleasure through him, and he couldn’t help but moan—invitation, the lube prominent on his stomach.

Lotor answered him almost immediately, drawing the tube down his belly, over his pubes, brushing gently against his cock.  Lance whimpered at the chill of the tube against him.

Then it was gone, and he felt a slick finger probing his ass, carefully preparing him for what was to come.  First one, then more, gently penetrating, teasing, opening…

_Oh, so good, more, more, more…_

The fingers slipped out of him, and Lance groaned, despairing at the loss.  The warm hands tilted his hips _just so_ , lifted his legs from the bed, and he sighed his happiness as he felt them come to rest on the muscular shoulders above him.  _Thank you, thank you_ , he sent up as prayer, wiggling slightly as he felt Lotor’s member nudging against him.

Then, _oh heavens_ , he was being impaled.  It was hard and huge and it hurt, but it was that kind of pain that melts away into pleasure almost as fast as it occurs.

He arched and cried out when Lotor brushed against that spot inside him that made everything wonderful.  His toes were curling, his fingers digging into the soft linens, and it was…

It was…

"Gods, you're incredible!" Lotor's surprised gasp echoed his incoherent meanderings.  A whimpering sigh was his only answer as he felt the Prince move slightly.  
  
That small movement set off an urgent need to get closer, to feel more of this man's body against his.  Lance wriggled a little, just to seat himself better against his lover's hot, tight body.   His squirming made Lotor shudder, and a feverish sweat broke out to shimmer on dusky grey-blue skin.   
  
Lance let his calves, resting against Lotor’s shoulders, slide to the sides, then down further, to rest close to the crook of his arms, already rippling from supporting his weight.  And, as he’d hoped, the prince quickly took advantage of the new position to rock his body closer, lowering himself enough to rest himself of his elbows and virtually doubling Lance over.

It was only then that he started to move, and Lance gave in to the pleasure spiraling through him.  
  
Vaguely, as if from a great distance, he heard Lotor murmur, "I don't think this is going to last long."  Then there were nibbles, hungry little bites along his jaw line that just made him that much hotter.

Lance’s only response was an inarticulate groan.  He clutched at Lotor’s broad shoulders, wanting to pull him even deeper inside, trying to climb into his body.

And when he moved, oh, it was sheer wonder.  Each short, rigidly controlled movement of Lotor’s hips sent him spiraling closer and closer to the point of no return.

Then they came even shorter and closer together, and Lotor was groaning in his ear, and each stroke crossed his pleasure centre, making it so difficult to hold back…

Quite suddenly, it was too much, Lotor’s scent, his closeness and heat, and Lance _couldn’t_ hold back any more.  With a sharp cry, he climaxed, and spasmed until he was wrung dry.

Through that haze of pleasure, he both heard and felt Lotor’s groan, and somehow knew that he was teetering on the edge, waiting to tip over.  As another bolt shook him, he dug his fingers _hard_ into Lotor’s arms, his shoulders, wherever he could reach.

A few short thrusts later, and Lotor's own pleasure rolled through him, wave after wave, making him shudder and moan.  Lance, wilted and drained as he was, still delighted in the sound, and managed to prop his eyes open to watch him find completion.

Glorious.  Dusky skin shining with sweat, white head flung back, ember eyes squeezed tightly shut.  He was a sight to behold, and Lance let a languorous smile curve his lips.  
  
For a brief moment, he was crushed, as Lotor sank into his warm, limp embrace, then the Prince withdrew carefully and collapsed in a slick, drained heap at his side.

Then—surprise on surprise—Lotor reached out and pulled him into his arms, almost… cuddling him.

Purring delightedly, Lance snuggled into the warmth.  The strong arms around him, the calloused fingers lightly stroking his shoulder, the utter satisfaction that was the aftermath of sex… all combined to whisk away any thoughts of what might happen next, or even his eventual rescue.  He was content to lay with Lotor, pillowed on his shoulder, and let his hand rest on the hard planes of his chest, unmoving, uncaring.

What would come, would come.  _I just hope that I get a nap first_ , he thought with a yawn.

***

Lance stirred and pressed a soft kiss to the flesh beneath his cheek. Then he propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over Lotor slightly, and poked him firmly in the chest. “We could have forgone the cell bit, you know.  It wasn't exactly fun, the first time I was down there.”

Lotor smirked up at him lazily. “Oh, come now. You didn't have fun being all chained up? You haven't minded it so much up here in my room."

"Yeah, well," Lance snorted.  "I don't mind a bit of roleplay here.  That's what I'm up here for, remember?  Fulfilling all those lurid fantasies of yours," he grinned.

Lotor cocked one eyebrow.  "You could be grateful I didn't leave you down there, you know."

Lance glared down at him for a moment, but couldn't stop the smile from breaking through; he'd certainly enjoyed their mutual truce, even if it didn't extend any further than the boundaries of this room. “Well, I guess.” He laid back down and snuggled up close. “You're right, this was a good idea. Glad I thought of it.”

Lotor mock-growled. “Who thought of it?”  When Lance's pointed look drifted past the five second mark, Lotor caved, disgruntled.  "Oh, all right."  His hand ran down Lance's back to mould itself to one firm buttock, squeezing lightly.

Lance still waited, one eyebrow cocked when Lotor looked in his direction.  The prince squirmed a bit, then mumbled something that might have been a rather short 'thanks'.  He grinned to himself and placed a kiss to the salty skin of Lotor's throat before settling in again.

"Now, see?  Was that so difficult?" Idly drawing patterns on Lotor's chest with one finger, Lance didn't really expect a reply.

Lotor shifting slightly beneath his weight, settling him into a more comfortable spot.  "You're pushing it," he rumbled.  But the smile Lance could feel as the prince buried his face in Lance's hair belied the threatening tone.

Satisfied, he relaxed once more, completely at ease next to Lotor, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep (or Lotor's desire) to claim him once more. 

One large hand curled around to slide into Lance's hair, fingering it slowly as Lotor's breath slowed and deepened.  "I'm glad you stayed," the prince murmured against the damp skin of his forehead, nuzzling slightly.

And that, more than the very hot sex, more than anything else Lotor had done, convinced Lance that the decision he'd made was, if not the _right_ one, at least not the _wrong_ one.  He fell back to sleep, content, lulled by the strong thudding of Lotor's heart beneath his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2006 and subsequently lost in our stacks of fic files. Given a quick touch up and title today.


End file.
